Burn the ballots, ban the books, bash the ones who disagree. When did it become the norm to forego common decency? Ignore the truth, assert your lies loudly and repeatedly. And God forbid you dare to challenge ye olde patri-assity.
Why do you try to stop the votes, what do you fear so mightily? Why must you foment rage and hate, distrust and blind antipathy? Why lurk in darkness, wearing masks to veil your true identity? Why hide behind your guns and flags, then call it Christianity?
I am not Dem nor GOP, to none do I pledge fealty. I aim to act with common sense, with self respect and dignity. Far from perfect, none too wise, often lacking clarity. Perhaps we’re more alike than not. Let’s strive for peace and harmony.
It is the autumn equinox, where light and dark balance equally for a day before the scale tips to favor longer and longer nights.
Two days post surgery to repair a detached retina, I am sporting a bulky protective eye patch, my field of vision impaired to half light and half dark. I trust that this scale will tip toward the light as my vision is restored.
There are so many cycles in nature and life, ebbing and flowing, waxing and waning. I am thankful for all that I see.
two parts make a whole dawn to dusk, then dusk to dawn in perfect balance
A book is not about the cover that protects it. A gift is not about the paper that wraps it.
A favor, though, is about all that surrounds it, and not merely about the favor itself.
A favor is a gift of protection; of connection; the resurrection of feeling secure and loved, and the knowing that someone has your back.
A favor is about the wrapping; not mere trappings, but the tapping into kindness and caring and feeling seen and warmed by the soul of another.
When you do someone a favor, know that you, too, will be fortified by the community you are helping to create and maintain. Know that you, too, will be enveloped in the love and wellbeing that comes
I saw your magnificent blooms sprawling as only magnolias can do, soaking in the sun’s warmth under a balmy blue sky.
Caught by a sudden springtime squall, your drooping petals skittered to the ground, blown away like loose debris across a windy beach.
Growing up on the Pacific northwest coastline, I was taught to never turn my back on the ocean, lest I be caught off guard by a fast-moving sneaker wave.
My dear magnolia, it appears you would benefit from a similar vigilance. Never, never turn your back on April.
Day Three of NaPoWriMo! Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net:
write a surreal prose poem. For inspiration, check out Franz Kafka’s collection of short parables (my favorite is “The Green Dragon”).
Here’s my attempt:
Just Silly
When the zebra’s spots turn paisley, you know it’s time for lunch. You may cook oatmeal, but don’t expect it to pop up from the toaster when it’s done. It will, instead, crawl from the slot like a drunken Tuesday, and wrap itself into a Celtic knot in the center of your plate. Not to worry; there will be room on the side for marbles and mood rings.
Soup goes well with oatmeal, but do not put the soup in the toaster. That’s just silly. And besides, zebras prefer their soup strung on skewers and roasted over hot pink.
Day Two of NaPoWriMo! Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net:
write a platonic love poem. In other words, a poem not about a romantic partner, but some other kind of love – your love for your sister, or a friend, or even your love for a really good Chicago deep dish pizza. The poem should be written directly to the object of your affections (like a letter is written to “you”), and should describe at least three memories of you engaging with that person/thing.
Herewith, A Cut Above;
We’ve been through things, you and I. Some good, some not so. I can be dismissive, careless. You can be cutting, unforgiving.
I take advantage of you. Use you. I planned to paint my bathroom, and somehow it turned into a near-total remodel. I called on you, and you were right there helping me, seeing it through to it’s (not quite) glorious end.
We have traveled cross country, sharing long drives through snow or heat or rain. Getting lost together when Siri suggests an alternate route. You never complain, and I never feel the need to apologize.
We’ve sat on the back deck together, whittling wood on warm summer afternoons. Sometimes in conversation; sometimes in silence. I feel comfortable with you.
I feel safe with you.
I am artistic; you are utilitarian. I guess that’s why I am the artisan, and you are the utility knife.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 